We Will Not Fade
by Hadlathwen
Summary: Nuada Silverlance found another chance at life in Middle-earth, but never dreamed he'd find himself trapped between his love for an Elven maiden's family and his hate for mankind.


**My first real fanfic so please review and tell me what you think! **

His skin was so white, it seemed nearly translucent. She could see the tracings of amber veins under the skin of his face, neck, and arms. His hair was long and white as well, but the ends were golden.

His face was not at rest, though he seemed to be asleep. It was hard and seemed chiseled from stone. His brow was heavy and lined, his jaw and chin sharp. His cheekbones were high and prominent, and a strange, thin scar cut through the skin across them and the bridge of his nose. Other, smaller scars graced his forehead, temples, and cheeks almost as if a design was cut into his skin. His eyes were deep set and tinted black as were his lips. He lay on his back, his left arm draped over his middle, his right at his side. His head was tilted away from her.

He was pale but dark. He was the most frightening looking being she had ever seen and the imagined images of what the vampires of Sauron looked like rose in her mind.

As she tore her eyes from his face, Aredhel saw that blood soaked through his shirt below his heart.

Her own heart tripped and she gasped. _How could she have missed that?_

Without thinking, she knelt beside him and reached out to pick up his left hand to check his pulse. As soon as her skin made contact with his, his eyes flew open and his hand snapped up, closing around her delicate wrist like a vise.

Aredhel cried out and stared down at his face. She tried to push away, but his other hand closed around her other forearm. He jerked her down so that their faces were inches apart. Her eyes met his.

They were a deep amber color, the irises glowing with pain and anger. His pupils dilated and he grimaced, setting his jaw at a hard angle. Her hair fell over their faces like a curtain. She squeezed my eyes shut to avoid his hypnotic, damning gaze.

"Where is Nuala?" he rasped, his voice deep and cunning.

Aredhel's eyes opened and met his again. She swallowed the fear that was crowding in her throat.

"I -", she gasped. His fingers dug into her flesh, painfully. For someone so gravely wounded, he was still very strong.

"Where?" he repeated, almost begging. His voice had lost most of its commanding tone.

She did not answer, but instead jerked against his grip, slamming her left palm down on his chest in the place where the blood-drenched his clothing.

He let loose a snarling howl in a language she did not understand and let go of her, his head thrown back and his arms automatically covering his injured chest.

She scrambled back on her hands and knees before leaping to her feet, tripping over her cloak's hem and falling on her backside. She leaped up again and jogged backward and pressed her back against a nearby tree, her eyes glued to him.

He rolled halfway over, hand pressing down on his chest. He lifted his head but was clearly not looking for her as his gaze swept over the surrounding forest. He made a feeble attempt to sit up but fell back.

His eyes and face were luminous in the sunlight; she saw the glittering track of a tear as it cut its way down his scarred temple. "Nuala", he moaned, before his eyes fell closed and his body went limp.

She took in a deep, shuddering breath before looking down at her wrists. They were red and chafed and bruises would later form on her porcelain skin where his fingers had dug in. Her left hand was covered in blood.

But its color was not crimson; rather it was a deep amber color, like his eyes. She shuddered again and bent to wipe it on the grass. As she rubbed a golden leaf over her fingers, she sat back on her heels and stared at the motionless form of the strange Elf, lying there on Cerin Amroth.

_Where did he come from? _she wondered. _Is he a Dark Elf of old as Eöl was? _

A cold chill settled over her shoulders. My name was Aredhel after the Ñoldorin princess. She had been taken by Eöl and borne him a son, Maeglîn who later betrayed Gondolin to Morgoth.

This Elf looked like his soul had been sickened by Evil and that dark thoughts and dreams plagued his mind and sleep. And he was gravely injured.

_Fear makes monsters of us all. It was fear that caused him to lash out. _

Slowly, she got up, her heart thumping. Aredhel reached for her long knife in her boot, pulling it out. The weight of the metal was comforting. Her fingers fit perfectly around the smooth, grooved handle.

Holding it close to her thigh, Aredhel approached the Elf, purposefully scuffing her boots in the dirt to make sounds of her arrival. His body remained still on the ground as she knelt beside him once more. She was silent, watching his blood-soaked chest rise and fall with his breathing. His teeth were clenched and with each breath, a tight hissing sound emitted from his mouth. His dark brow was furrowed in pain.

Carefully, she placed the flat of her blade against his collarbone and slid her other hand under his covering his injury. His body shuddered and she jumped. His face relaxed slightly and his black lips moved incoherently.

His eyelids fluttered open and he stared a moment at the sky. The sunlight made his amber eyes appear honey colored, the definition of the pupil more prominent. She moved the blade against his neck and his gaze flew to her.

It raked over her face and she felt his body tense. He looked down at where her hand was pressed over his chest and drew in another tight breath, wincing as he exhaled. Again his eyes found hers and anger clouded them.

"How dare you?" he murmured.

Aredhel raised her eyebrows. "Dare to do what?"

"Hold a knife to my throat, threatening me", he purred.

"You threaten me with your presence, Elf", she replied. "Do you expect me to kiss your hand?"

"Why not?" his lip curled in a frightening sneer. "I am Prince Nuada, Silverlance. You show respect or die."

She rolled the blade so that the edge now pressed against his neck. "You amuse me, Dark Elf", Aredhel answered, leaning closer. "But I have not heard of that title and here I have the knife to your throat. Who should be worried about death now?"

He tried to raise his head, but a strangled gasp escaped his throat and his hand tightened over hers in an effort to clamp down over the wound. "Nuala", he breathed. "If I live yet, so does she. You cannot kill me or you will kill her innocence." He pierced her eyes with his gaze. "And you do not seem the type to take innocent blood."

She raised her chin, a thousand questions entangled in her head. _Who was Nuala? _Was the only one she could grasp. She opened her mouth to speak, but Nuada spoke first.

"Nuala is my twin sister, Aredhel", he said, pride entering his smooth tone. "We are connected in body and soul and we feel the other's pain and every thought."

Aredhel drew in a sharp breath and her knife hand faltered. He noticed and his right hand reached up and twisted the knife away. "How did you know my name?" she gasped.

He must have attempted a smile but it appeared to be more of a grimace. "I may delve into the thoughts of any touching me and little is hidden from my knowledge."

Her eyes widened. _You can hear my every thought? _she wondered.

"I can", he replied to her silent question.

She stumbled back, but he still had a hold of her wrist. "Unhand me!" she demanded.

His face twisted into pain but he forced himself to sit halfway up, pulling her closer with his gaze.

"No need to fear me, Aredhel", he crooned, an evil undertone in his voice. "Come closer."

Aredhel shuddered and pulled back, but he dug his thumb into the flesh under her wrist and she yelped as pain lanced its way to her shoulder.

Anger boiled inside her and she desperately pressed the fingers of her right hand down into the injury, that by feel, she could tell was a knife wound. He had been stabbed.

She felt hot blood begin to flow over her fingers and it burned. His neck snapped back, eyes wide and mouth open in a soundless scream. His body convulsed and his limbs contracted inward as he fell back, automatically trying to shield the vulnerability of his chest. She withdrew her hands from contact with him and stared at the blood that thoroughly coated her fingers.

Beside her, his eyes closed and his breath was hard and labored. His long wavy hair cascaded over his shoulders and neck tangled in his left-hand fingers. His right hand pressed hard against his chest.

"Nuala, Nuala", he moaned. "_Goheno nin, _forgive me. I bring you pain alone. _Hiril vuin, _my lady, _goheno nin_." His eyes remained closed as he murmured these words aloud.

"_Mithrilech_, Silverlance", Aredhel interjected. "You are at my mercy and I find you quite pitiable."

A low growl emitted from Nuada's throat and his eyes opened, fixing her with a gaze so hateful that it seemed to ripple out of him and strike her in the chest. "I charge you with taking up your own knife, Aredhel", he snarled. "And piercing your heart where mine is pierced. To hear every moan emitted from your throat as well as that of the one you shared the womb with. To feel the blade cut away at your life so that soon even breathing is torturous."

She inhaled automatically, her hand at her throat.

"But if you give up, if you go down, then your innocent sister will die as well."

Aredhel buried her face in the crook of her elbow to hide the tears that suddenly built up in her eyes. She too had shared the womb with someone. He had found out when he pierced her mind with his.

"Mithrilech, you torment me", she said raising her eyes to his.

His head fell back and his eyelids shut. "You do not know the meaning of torment, Aredhel. Not truly."

She sat back on her heels as his body relaxed into an exhausted faint. His breath slowed to barely audible. Though reason warred with pity, she knew that to get up and walk away and leave him to die would be cruel. She knew how to treat knife wounds and she could treat this one.

_Prince Nuada Silverlance _would live to see the next sunrise and if what he said of his sister was true, then so would she.

Aredhel got to her feet and left him where he lay, headed for the abandoned house of the Lord and Lady of Light.


End file.
